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#sanguine shadow
linda-likes-to-draw · 6 months
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Angy daedras :] (all belongs to @ego-osbourne!)
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This was very fun hehehe. Also this has been sitting in my drafts for 2 MONTHS so hooray it's here!! I honestly really like how this turned out! It was so fun making them glow hehe
Characters are @/ego-osbourne's Sanguine, Velehk Sain and Rakell! Go check their blog out they're so cool
Hope you have a great time :]
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darknanigans · 8 months
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i firmly believe in half vampire bat and half honduran white bat rouge
here are some headcanons:
• feeding from people isn't an intimate thing. its just her second way of sustenance. but when KNUCKLES offered his neck, she got incredibly flustered. ↧↧↧
TW BLOOD:
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she does get a little overexcited tho,,, lol
• she feeds from shadow, knuckles, and blood bags given to her by G.U.N.
• knuckles' blood is the healthiest for her due to his diet.
•shadow's blood is like junk food for her.
•the blood bags are somewhat nutritious but not as much as knuckles'.
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caydencrypted · 6 months
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I feel like part of becoming a true honkai superfan is reading the durandal VN to completion even if it's probably some of the worst writing mihoyo has put out in it's entirety
the durandal vn is the one piece of honkai media i genuinely have no memory of the plot of. like i can recall random cgs but i could not fucking tell you anything that happened. kira was there. idk
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chiyuki-hiro · 8 months
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Ten Villian/Antagonist F/Os
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10. Billy-Ray Sanguine (Skulduggery Pleasant books by Derek Landy)
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9. King Candy aka Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph)
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8. The Phantom aka Erik (The Phantom of the Opera)
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7. The Darkling aka Aleksander Morozova (Shadow and Bone trilogy by Leigh Bardugo)
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6. Monkey Fist aka Lord Monty Fiske (Kim Possible)
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5. Pitch Black aka The Boogeyman (Rise of the Guardians)
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4. The Robotic Fizzarolli aka Robo Fizz (Helluva Boss)
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3. Blackheart (Ghost Rider)
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2. Prince Hans Westergaard (Frozen)
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The Joker (The dark Knight)
Looking at this line up I definately have a type lol!
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jacks-archive · 10 months
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Vigor
Obsidian/Shadow/Sanguine
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finalgirl666 · 2 years
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cutest vampire around 🩸
*ok to rb, do NOT repost w out permission*
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bloodylariat · 8 months
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Not me thinking about how the only reason Mary keeps Damien alive is to torture him.
Because, in her words, "he loved tormenting people for his own amusement" so she'll give him a taste of his own medicine.
Not to mention, it also serves as revenge for how many people he's helped Lilith kill.
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scry-a-day · 2 years
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59
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Coatl Male
Savannah/Facet/Smoke
Sanguine/Azure/Pearl
Shadow Goat
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draggeddowntothedark · 6 months
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Why... were bodies... so... fucking... heavy.
Iva swore, she just about threw her back out dragging this fat fuck behind a dumpster. She hadn't wanted to kill him where she had, but he'd caught her stalking him and uh. Well. Things happened.
At least the Shadow was content without all the ceremony and took the heart without too much grumbling. Honestly. What a jerk. Iva stood back up and groaned, cracking her spine as she bent backwards.
She needed a massage. And a martini. And maybe a trip to the Bahamas. Ooooh, tropics. That would be nice this time of year.
Iva's fantasizing about a warm beach was cut short by the sound of someone dragging something so, so very heavy. Not an unfamiliar sound, given what she was just up to.
She made eye contact with someone who was in a situation akin to her own. Down to blood spattered clothes and bloody knife.
"... Well. Fuck. This is awkward."
@sanguine-salvation
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umbrae-sortilegium · 7 months
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𝒯𝒽𝑒 ℳ𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓏 In the embrace of shadows, where darkness finds its throne- the moonlight weaves its silver threads, a tapestry unknown. Rubies adorned with sanguine kisses, passionate and deep: In the realm of dreams and demons, secrets they shall keep.
Red roses bloom in moonlight's pale and ghostly glow- drops of blood, like teardrops, in the garden's ebon flow. Mists waltz over graves like a shroud, a mournful, haunting veil: as black stars smile like burnt jewels, their secrets they unveil.
In the blackest witchcraft's grip, afoot in the night's embrace; they dance naked by firelight, an eerie, wicked grace. Unveiling mysteries of old, their incantations soar- to the heart of the abyss, where dreams and nightmares roar.
The shadows whisper secrets, in the language of the night- as rubies glisten like the stars, their crimson hue so bright. The demons' dreams take flight, through realms of endless dread while red roses weep their petals, like drops of blood they shed.
Mists encircle secrets, as they dance upon the graves: a shroud of misty sorrow, a requiem for lost souls' waves. Black stars, like wicked jewels, gleam in the midnight sky; the heart of this enchantment, where enchantments never die.
With the blackest witchcraft dance, the night is brought to life- the shadows move, like specters, through the darkness's endless strife. By the fire's flickering flame, their mystic rites unfold. In this gothic, haunting ballad, a midnight waltz of old.
© Dʏsʜᴀɴᴋᴀ/Oᴅᴇᴛᴛᴇ ₂₀₂₃
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scryingworkshop · 1 year
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elysian-voices · 1 year
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Tag Dump 2: Character Tags
Tags for characters not currently on the blog, this tag dump is liable to change if I end up getting the muse for any of these characters.
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justanerdy-gal · 4 months
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"Do You Resent Me?" (Astarion x Tav)
-> pairing: Astarion x Tav -> content: fluff/angst -> summary: In which Tav wonders whether Astarion resents her for convincing him to choose to reject the Black Mass ritual and not Ascend. Full of angsty fluff.
-> notes: The finished version of the WIP I posted yesterday. Astarion & Tav draws all the angst and cheesy fluff out of me 🥹
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“Do you resent me?”
Astarion looks up, wearily, from the corner of the Elfsong Tavern room that they had been staying in for some time now.
“Darling….what would I have to resent you for…?”
You slowly walk over to his corner of the room, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed. You observe him as he turns his gaze over to the hands in his lap.
“It…just feels like…you may have made your choice because of…me.”
Astarion turns his head to look back at you, betraying nothing in those crimson eyes at the moment, but listening.
“If I wasn’t around….you would have been free to make the choice you always wanted,” you continued, your eyes glassing over as you ponder the thoughts that have been plaguing you since the moment Astarion made his choice in the Szarr palace.
“The freedom that you always craved… did I take that away from you?”
Astarion’s eyes widened as you made your declaration.
“You… think it wasn’t the right choice?”
“Not that,” you tried to clarify. “Maybe… maybe I don’t know what the right choice is. But what mattered is… your choice.”
“You trusted me. You trusted me with a choice that, in the end, goes back centuries…” your voice starts to shake. “A choice with consequences you must live with for…eternity.” You look up at him as tears finally threaten to pour from your eyes. “What right did I have, to ask you to sacrifice yourself to the shadows?”
Astarion stares at you as he ponders your statement. He looks away from you as he stares at the cracked, drying paint on the wall of the old room.
“I think about it every minute, every moment.” Astarion speaks slowly, softly. “I think about the colours of the city. The warmth of the rays at dawn, beckoning me towards the next day. I think about the sanguine hunger I have suffered for over 200 years, and how I could be free from that pain. Free from all limitations. And how that will never be now… once the parasite is destroyed.”
You look up at him in despair as your body threatens to let out a sob.
“And I think about… how it would never be enough.”
It was your turn for your eyes to widen. His gaze had softened as his fingers move to entwine in your own.
“I see the colours through your eyes, through the stories that you tell me of your adventures. I feel the warmth through your skin as you lay beside me every night.”
“And your blood can sate me better than any power can.” You giggle as he smirks, softly wiping the tears from your eyes.
“Before you, before this nautiloid fiasco … I had no reason to want anything else but freedom and power. I only lived to escape what I was. I had everything to gain. And nothing to lose. So ofcourse, this Ascension seemed like an obvious choice.”
“But everything changed,” Astarion said breathily. “From the moment you wormed your way into my heart…you became a complication that I never expected. Suddenly, I had everything to lose.”
“I would have stayed,” you say thickly.
“I know you would,” Astarion says sadly, “but would you have been happy?”
“I probably would have been happy…happier than I was, for sure.” Astarion stares distantly at the wall as he speaks. “But where would that happiness end? What would sate me, if my happiness was dependent on power? I would have to take more, control more, be more…it is surely the fate that befell Cazador, that befalls all with power…more power than they know what to do with.” Astarion winces as he utters his late master’s name. “The need for power, for control, can never be sated. It would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.”
“But you, with me, here? That is enough. You are enough. We are enough.”
You pause as you ponder his words for a moment.
“Am I?” you whisper weakly as you stare at your entwined hands.
You feel the chill of his hands as they move up to hold your face tightly, and tilts your head up to look at him. The intensity in his eyes at that moment was like nothing you’ve ever seen on him before.
“Listen to me,” he says firmly, staring fiercely into your eyes, as if he was speaking through to your soul. “There is nothing in the world that I wouldn’t sacrifice to remain here by your side. You are my eternity. My mad love. Besides,” Astarion smiles as he stares into your eyes. “I still think it was the right choice, regardless. If I could go back and do it all over again, I’d make the same choice. Every time.”
Astarion’s words cause the tears that you were holding back to creep up to the surface, as your body begins to wrack with heavy sobs, as you let out the doubt and fear that you have been holding since you both learned that the Ascension was a thing – since you have contemplated that potential decision every minute of every day, since the moment Astarion asked you to help him, and you convinced him to give away that power, to save those souls, to save himself. Astarion pulls your head to his chest and holds you tightly as you shake against him.
“My darling, why do you weep? Don’t sell yourself so short. No one else has a heart like you. You’re the only one,” Astarion whispers into your ear.
“I love you,” you declare into his shirt, tears still staining the soft, white material.
“I love you too,” Astarion says, leaning backward, pulling you down with him until he was laying on his back, with your head resting on his chest, hands softly caressing your hair. “I can’t imagine another way I would want to spend the rest of my days, my love. I’m not afraid – not anymore. And especially not of our future.”
And that is how you both fell asleep, with the two of you in eachother’s arms and your dreams of the future in eachother’s hearts.
——————
My AO3 and Twitter 🙂
MASTERLIST
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zaldritzosrose · 2 days
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Sanguine Obsession (Vampire!Aemond x Human!Reader)
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Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.
Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.
All boards included are made by yours truly!
Summary: The Targaryens are well known for their supernatural existence, and you are one of many brought into the service of Prince Aemond - a vampire. When you moon's blood surprises you, the Prince acts in a way you could never have expected.
TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of vampiric feeding, mentions of blood, menophilia (period kink), oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, Aemond as a vampire (could be a warning in and of itself), period sex.
Words: 3088
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Serving Prince Aemond Targaryen was an honour, to you and your family at least. On the outside, the Targaryens were ordinary royals, save for the dragon riding, of course.
But there was something deeper and darker within the family. Like a dark shadow that hung over the Red Keep, an apt name for the home of supernatural beings. The Targaryens had ruled through blood and immortality for centuries, and you were not the first to serve the One-Eyed Prince. Not all the dragon-blooded royals were vampiric, though each one of them was not entirely human.
The call had come just less than a month ago. A letter bearing the seal of House Targaryen arriving to your father. Though it was phrased as a question, it was clear there was only one answer to the request.
We request your eldest daughter to serve at the side of Prince Aemond, as have many that have come before her. She will be well cared for and protected whilst in the Prince’s service.
Your father had not hesitated. Informing you immediately that preparations were to be made for your travel to the capital.
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Now, it was almost two full months since you had arrived at the Keep. Prince Aemond was stoic, but not unkind. In fact, you had soon found his presence an odd comfort. Sitting with him in the library as he read, fetching whichever book he needed. Watching him train under the shadow of the evening, becoming his most fervent supporter every time.
You had known what the Targaryens were before you came into the Prince’s service. Every citizen in Westeros knew, it was not a secret they kept hidden. The family mostly kept stores of blood within the Keep, preferring the convenience of it over hunting. Others, however, chose to hunt, choosing their prey and hunting ground carefully to avoid large populations.
Prince Aemond was the latter. Choosing to hunt wherever he could but there was one task he had never forced upon you. There were times when the Prince was unable to hunt, and he always seemed dissatisfied with drinking stored blood from a goblet. He never said it openly, but the prince enjoyed the chase, the feeling of bringing down his prey and feeding fresh.
In those times, you could see the war in him. When he would look at you with a hunger, or more specifically your throat. Watching the pulse of your veins when you would lean close to hand him his next cup. And eventually, you had picked up the courage to ask.
“My prince, if there is something else you need of me, please say?” you had asked softly, trying to keep your nerve.
Aemond had only hummed low, a sound you were so used to hearing, but you knew he was avoiding answering you.
You had knelt at his side, hands resting on the arm of his chair.
“Please, I feel I know what it is you need. You have not been able to hunt for weeks…”
That had been the push he had needed. From then on, when he could not hunt, he would ask to feed from you. And you agreed, every time. Finding yourself often curled in the Prince’s lap as he sank his teeth into your flesh and drank his fill. He was always gentle during these times, the way he would hold you as he fed bordering on romance. Always in his embrace, bodies pressed impossibly close.
Even the Prince would eventually admit, you were the first of his servants that had ever offered their blood to him, an act that had both shocked and enamoured him to you. But he had never admitted that this act of service had, without a doubt, furthered the desire he had felt the moment he saw you.
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For the first month of your service, you had managed to avoid the Prince during your moon’s blood. Seemingly coinciding with his hunting routine. His mother and sister had helped you stay out of his presence by claiming to need you for other tasks. He had never questioned it, with his mother explaining that he knew the reason, and understood why they took such measures.
This month, however, you were unprepared. The Queen and the Princess were visiting their Hightower kin in Oldtown. There was no one around to help you with the unexpected surprise. You tried your best to complete your tasks for the Prince while spending as little time in his presence as possible. Something he noticed immediately.
Every morning you would hide spare smallclothes within your gown, knowing that at any point in the day you might need them. Taking extra rags from the Maester to make sure you did not risk leaving the blood-stained cloth on your body too long.
But what you did not know was that Aemond had noticed. In reality, he could smell it days before you bled. A small change in scent that told him what was to come. He did his best, this time, to ignore it. Knowing you had no choice but to remain at his side. He was not due to hunt for another two days. But the scent of you was becoming more and more tempting.
It all came to a head when you did not appear in the library that morning. Aemond always read during the daytime, the library drapes heavy enough to block out all the sunlight. He gave you a little time, knowing from his books that a woman’s bloods could take a toll physically and he knew better than to expect you to ignore your own health for his sake.
But when another hour passed, he felt concern gnawing at him. Closing his book, Aemond made quick work of the walk to your chambers. He had not even reached the door before he could smell it.
The coppery scent filling his nostrils and making his mouth water. He stood stock still at your door, his thirst begging him to enter and take his fill. But his concern for you demanded he find a way to fix whatever had made you late.
“My lady?” was all he could muster, his hand resting on the handle.
Inside, you froze. That morning you had woken to what could only be described as a bloodbath. The deep red liquid having stained your sheets and nightgown through the night. Cleaning up the aftermath was taking far longer than you expected.
“M-My Prince, I…Please do not come in,” Your voice was frantic as you folded the soiled sheets and stuffed them into the sack you would take down to the washroom.
Just the tone of your voice had Aemond even more concerned. The need for politeness soon lost to his concern as he pushed the door open despite your protests. When he entered, the scent near overtook him. And not just the blood. A smell akin to fear on you.”
“I…” You could not form a single word. There seemed to be no connection between your mind and your mouth.
Aemond’s jaw locked tight, doing everything he could not to inhale if he did not need to. His eye scanned the room. The scent lingered at the sack by the door, which he assumed held your sheets. But the copper tang was greatest around you, and he could see the scrubbed spots where you had tried to clean your stained skin.
“You are…bleeding.” He said, barely forming it as a question, his voice tight with restraint.
You could see the faint push of his fangs against his lip as he spoke. A sight you only saw moments before he would feed from you. In this moment, it was the first time you seemed to fear him.
“I apologise…I..I tried to clean it but…”
The words died on your lips when you saw Aemond staring only at your stained nightdress. The memory of your conversation with his mother ringing in your mind.
“One thing you must know, my dear, your moon’s blood will smell far different to the blood that flows in your veins. It will be much more intense of a scent. More enticing,” the Queen explained before continuing on with the plans they had in place to help female servants of the family during that time of the month.
Now, it all made sense. You had never seen Aemond like this, except when his teeth were pierced deep into your neck, or any other flesh he had chosen for a feed. Yet, you still felt no true fear. Nothing about the Prince had ever caused that feeling in you.
Aemond however, had no thought in his mind except your scent. The deep red that stained your skin. The points of his fangs almost piercing his teeth in preparation of drinking.
“Is this why you were late this morning?” he asked, his eye finally meeting yours, the pupil blown wide, eclipsing the ice blue of his iris. All the air left your lungs and your hesitation seemed to frustrate him.
“Answer me,” he growled, taking a purposeful step towards you.
“Yes, my prince. It was unexpected, and I could not leave behind such a mess and there was no time to clean...”
You were stopped short when Aemond closed the distance between you. You would often forget he was not human, but the speed at which he appeared in front of you abruptly reminded you of it. You held your breath as his head dipped to press his nose against your neck. You could feel the puffs of air on your neck as he seemed to fight himself for control.
“I could smell it. Every moment for the last three days…”
The curve of his nose pressed against your neck, nuzzling over the spot he had bit you so many times before. And you could not hide your shiver as he growled again.
“You smell so sweet…”
You wanted to move, to back away and put as much space between you and the Prince as you could. But your body was working against you. Instead, leaning closer into his form as he breathed you in again.
It was only when you whimpered as the sharp, cramping pain in your lower body reared itself again, that Aemond snapped out of his reverie.
“It hurts, does it not?” he asked, and you could only nod, feeling Aemond smile against the skin of your neck. His entire presence was intoxicating, and every ounce of self-preservation had long left you.
“There are ways to relieve the pain. I read about them, fascinating really,” he mused, and you opened your mouth to ask what he could possibly mean.
You had an inkling, having read some books yourself. And the implication of what he was referring to had your heart hammering in your chest.
Aemond’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. The bloodthirst inside him threatened to take over with every second he was close to you. You were almost hypnotised by him, wondering if this is how his victims felt when he hunted them down. Hazy, drawn into his embrace without any control of their actions.
Your silence made him chuckle, and he could already smell not only the blood but the slick that pooled between your thighs at his touch.
“Do you want me to help, sweet girl?” Aemond whispered, his lips now brushing against the skin of your ear.
You nodded gently but that was not enough for him.
“Words, I need your words,” His tone now a little more of a command than before.
You swallowed loud before answering, your voice barely more than a breathy sigh.
“Yes, my prince.”
That was all he needed. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he walked you back towards your bed. The sheets had been hastily changed moments before Aemond had entered your room, but that seemed to matter little.
Aemond made quick work of your nightdress, making your breath hitch when he pressed his nose into the sanguine stains. And the groan he released at the heady scent had your thighs clenching together. The dress was quickly discarded as Aemond returned his attention to you.
It was only then that you became quickly aware that you were entirely bare whilst Aemond was still fully clothed. Before you could even reach out for the clasps on his leather tunic, Aemond had the garment tugged open and on the floor, leaving him in only his light shirt and breeches. It was not the first time you had seen him dressed more casually, there were times you would enter his chamber of a morning or after he had trained to see him dressed quiet casually.
But this, without a doubt, was different.
“The books say,” Aemond began, using some of his vampiric strength to move you with ease up the bed, “that finding your release helps with the pain of a moon’s blood…”
You bit back a moan as he spread your thighs, the coolness of his skin quickly soothing the warmth in your body that was always brought on by your monthly bleed. Aemond hummed to himself as the full scent of you was revealed to him, his mouth watering as he saw the sticky trails of your bleed on the skin of your thighs and the flesh of your core.
“My prince…” you whined, not really sure anymore what you were asking for.
You wanted to hide yourself from his gaze, feeling like prey trapped in the claws of a predator, that singular blue iris staring you down as he took a deep inhale. Just his closeness was enough to distract you from the dull ache of the muscles in your hips and down. Aemond, on the other hand, was drunk on your scent alone, the sweet, metallic tang filling his nostrils and making his head spin.
You gasped at the cool touch of his fingers against your slit, tensing as he dipped an experimental finger in between your folds. Taking his time and letting your body relax into the intrusion. It went against everything he was to not devour you there and then. His mouth watering the closer he got.
His fingers pushed inside you slowly, his eye staring intently as the mix of your blood and slick pooled around his fingers with each movement. Aemond could already feel you relaxing, the muscles in your thighs already less tense on either side of his head.
But he needed more. The beast within crying out for a taste. Warring with the human need to bring you as much pleasure as he could. He had always found you beautiful and the dutiful way you served him was simply an extra boon.
“Will you allow me a taste, sweet girl? Let me bring us both satisfaction?”
His voice was so low and so smooth it had you sighing out in pleasure. Your hips already canting themselves closer to him.
“Yes, please,” you said softly, eyes already closing as Aemond’s fingers trailed small patterns either side of where you needed him most. Never close to where you needed him.
His eye found yours, and the look told you that he needed something else.
“My…my prince please, I need it...I need you…” you begged, the only thought in your head now was feeling him.
You felt him smirk against your skin as his title fell from your lips. He could get used to hearing it that way, so soft and breathy with pleasure.
You had anticipated either the return of his fingers or even the feel of his tongue. Instead, you felt the push of his face against you, burying his face as close as he could get. As if he wanted nothing more than to inhale the scent of you. But you could not hide the depraved moan that slipped from your lips when his tongue finally breached your entrance.
Aemond groaned against you. He had tasted your blood before, but nothing like this. It was like he was consuming the very essence of you. Everything tasted stronger and it took every ounce of control he had to not sink his teeth in as well. The wet sounds of his tongue between your folds should have made you blush, but you were too lost in your pleasure. His hands held your hips tight, planting you to the bed as he devoured your bleeding cunt.
“Yes, oh, my prince…oh…” Your words verged on incoherent but every time his title spilled from you, Aemond growled and renewed his movements with even more vigour.
Soon you were arching your back, pushing your hips down towards him before Aemond’s hands planted you back to the bed. His grip was strong, tugging you down and burying his tongue as deep as it would go. Lapping up everything you gave him. He could feel your blood and arousal spilling down his chin as you reach your peak, soaking into the fabric of his undershirt. But he could not get enough. Only when he could feel you desperately try to pull away did he slow himself down.
“That’s it…oh my sweet girl…” he cooed, pressing blood tinted kisses to your thighs before pulling away.
You were lost. Head hazy and heart hammering as you slowly came down from your high. And your cheeks flushed as you locked eyes with your Prince. His icy iris staring up at you, pale skin stained the deepest red with the mix of your blood and your juices.
Aemond softened when he saw your body relax. He was as satisfied as you were now. His pleasure was your pleasure. His fingers were quick to bring the wayward drips from his lips and chin to his mouth, not wasting a drop. Your taste was like nothing he had experienced, even now. He had never fed this way before, and he was already desperate to do so again.
“Do you feel better?”
The question made you sit up on your elbows and you could not help but smile down at him. The ache in your thighs and stomach was gone. Your body flushed but relaxed.
“Yes, my prince, thank you,”
Aemond crawled up your body, bringing you close and urging you to curl into him. Now, it was his turn to serve you. His loyal servant, more than deserving of the same care in return. And he internally vowed to keep you at his side, especially during your bloods. He could not deny it.
He was obsessed.
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@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel @multyfangirl
@thenameswinter99 @legitalicat @tumblin-theworldaway
if you want to be tagged, please let me know!
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angelixrr · 4 months
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hey, can i request a nsfw drabble with alastor and a bunnygirl reader with predator and prey? thank you!
yes ofc!! tysm for the request i really love getting them and i'm excited to get one so soon!! i really appreciate it love kisskiss mwah . tbh ikkk you said drabble. But it's kind of more of a ficlet. enjoyyy !!
alastor x bun!reader
cw for nsfw, noncon, fem!reader, predator/prey, blood, n references to vomit (reader doesn't puke tho)
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Running through the pride ring was no different than running through a forest. The streets twisted and turned like forest paths, and the shadowed alleyways resembled the brush shaded by trees. However, unlike the sereneness of the forest, where it was possible to know if you were followed, the loud atmosphere of the pride ring made it impossible to tell if someone followed you. No twigs snapped, no leaves rustled, and the chatter of sinners and demons alike disguised any sound that could clue you into wherever your predator was, and this terrified you. You were scared of the man chasing you; Alastor wasn’t like any other mortal man or sinner you had crossed. He stopped at nothing to have you in your clutches and wanted nothing more to ensnare you in his grasp, like a hunter hunting a poor little rabbit.
It was ironic, you thought. A sinner with deer traits could be such a daunting predator, but you couldn’t think more along these lines, because you knew he was hot on your trail ever since you ran away from him at the hotel. He was in your room, touching your things, your drawer wide open, while he held a pair of lacey panties, pants unbuckled to reveal his length as he rutted into the bundle of fabric. That was your last straw. Alastor had overstepped your boundaries previously; frequently, he would be too close to you, put his hands on you unexpectedly, and seemingly would sniff the air when you were around. But this was unacceptable. Tears had brimmed in your eyes when you ran away from the hotel, feeling invaded in a space that you thought could be your safe haven, but, with Alastor there, it couldn’t be. He was a wolf among sheep and had threatened you long enough. You needed time to decide what to do next and where to go. But most importantly, you needed to get away from Alastor.
After running for what felt like forever, you finally allowed yourself some rest, ducking into an alleyway. It wasn’t clean, by any means, but it was secluded enough to be considered safe from Alastor. Honestly, you would rather brave a random sinner than the overlord. The average crook was nothing compared to him. You heaved a sigh, trying to catch your breath from the running, crouching on the floor. Your sensitive bunny nose quickly picked up on the smell of blood, booze, and bile and scrunched up, but it was just something you’d have to deal with. Your rabbit ears twitch with each footstep that passes through the alleyway, and you dread hearing the sharp click of his heels against the pavement, but they didn’t come. You waited for what felt like an hour, and you finally felt safe. Allowing yourself to relax, you gingerly sit on the cleanest piece of pavement you could find and sink against the wall. You shut your eyes for what you were certain was just a moment, a mere few seconds, but when you opened them, you recoiled in shock.
Alastor was there. Leaning down, sanguine eyes glaring dead into your soul.
“Ah! Cher! I thought I almost lost you! You’re lucky I know the pride ring so well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found you, dear.”
Your face contorts itself into shock and horror, your ears drop down to the sides of your head, and you glare at Alastor, shoving his face away from yours.
“Leave me alone, Alastor. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Alastor merely offers a hearty laugh as if you’d just told him the funniest joke of the century. He tilts your head up with his microphone, offering you a charming smile.
“Cher! Enough with this outburst! It’s unbecoming of a young lady such as yourself. You belong at the hotel, simple as that. It’s so much more unsafe out here, you know.”
Your gaze hardens, and you flip Alastor off.
“I said fuck off, you creep! Leave me alone! You’re a fucking freak for what you did, and you’re an even bigger freak for following me here! Crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and just die!”
You spit words venomously and scramble to get up, but you don’t get far before you feel the weight of Alastor slam into your back, sending you reeling to the floor. You smell blood; some of it is yours from your now-skinned knees. Squirming, you try to struggle against Alastor to the best of your abilities but can’t make much leeway. His lithe body was much stronger than it looked.
“Let me go, let me go! Whatever you want from me, you can find it somewhere else!”
Tears are streaming down your flush face, which Alastor delights in. He always thought you were so much prettier in distress. Even when the two of you spent nights at the bar, chatting while you had loosened up, your face flush and eyes lidded, you weren’t nearly as pretty then as you were now.
“Dearest, I just want to help you, but I can’t do that until I put a little bit of sense into your silly little brain. You will be coming back with me, you will be staying at the hotel, and you will start being the good little bunny I know you can be, alright?”
You don’t respond; your crying doesn’t permit it, but Alastor thinks that’s okay. Actually, he’d prefer it if you stayed like this. You talked back much less when you were in pain. Alastor’s hands find their way up your shirt and underneath your bra. He tugs on your nipples harshly, raking his nails over what skin he can get his claws on and leaving blood to pool in their wake. Your wails have subsided to sniffles now, seemingly accepting of your fate. Alastor revels in this; the moment prey becomes docile, understanding its place in the world to be devoured was his favorite. With your newfound submission, Alastor strips you of your bottoms and pulls your panties down to your knees.
The location was not optimal, but he didn’t fancy dragging you back screaming and crying to teach you a lesson. Charlie and the rest of the residents would catch on to his actions. No, he needed to teach you a lesson now. Unzipping his slacks, Alastor pulls out his cock, giving himself a few strokes to spread his precum across his length; he thought that was all the prep you deserved. Holding your head to the floor, Alastor slowly pushes his length into your pussy, ears folded as his face contorts in pleasure. He was glad you couldn’t see him like this; he hated losing his composure. Alastor gave you just a moment to adjust to his length, but afterward, he began thrusting with reckless abandon. You cry out. His cock stretching you out hurt, but being fucked so roughly with such little prep hurt worse. Pleasure and pain molded together, the sensation of him stretching you out, hitting against your cervix as he pounded you, combined with the sensation of blood dripping down your skin from the scratches. You whimper and sob, but mixed between your noises of stress and pain, and you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. It hurt, but it felt good. A paradoxical cocktail of your emotional and physical suffering with pleasure poured over you, and you had lost yourself to it. With each thrust, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, and you try to grab at anything for purchase, but Alastor doesn’t let you. He merely yanks at your bunny ears, pulling you back on his dick.
“Fuuck, Alastor, fuck, stop, please. I don’t want this. It hurts.”
You attempt to tell him to try and save your pride, but it does nothing to deter him. If anything, it only turns him on more, causing him to thrust against you deeper, wanting you to come undone on him. He could feel you tightening up, squirming against him. He wanted you to realize your place as a dumb bunny cocksleeve. You can no longer hear static when he speaks, just his raw voice, occasionally letting out a muffled moan or grunt. From the heavy panting behind you, you can only guess he’s close as well. With a particularly rough thrust, combined with his hand coming down to rub at your clit, Alastor makes you cream around his length, and you practically go limp from such a hard orgasm. Alastor uses your body like a sex doll, thrusting into your cunt until you feel him cum inside you. At this point, you’re beyond exhausted and don’t resist, merely dropping to the floor when Alastor pulls out, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the concrete. Alastor quickly fixes himself, tucking his cock back into his pants, and pockets your panties. In addition, he slips on your bottoms, picks you up, and teleports the two of you back to the hotel, to his room. He didn’t want another incident like last time, so he figured if he just kept you here, he wouldn’t have to steal your panties again; he could indulge in the real thing: his favorite little bunny.
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fangswbenefits · 8 months
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If you choose spawn Astarion for his ending, I'm very much on board with the idea that he's not "fixed" in terms of personality. I think he's more nuanced than that, and there will be times when habits of old will resurface.
Selfishness. Fear. Sorrow.
At the end of the day, he's still cursed to live in the shadows. Away from the sun and colours of the world. A slave to his sanguine hunger. Still missing that sense of safety he longed for. You simply can't convince me that he just settles for that through the power of love and rainbows. With or without a partner.
That is why I love to explore a conflicted Astarion. As he comes to terms with his sexuality, other issues become apparent.
Even if he settles for not ascendig and realises he was saved from himself, there's always the looming "what if". Not that I think he would regret not having gone through with the ritual, but his lust for life and missing the simple pleasures that others take for granted might trigger some of these thoughts.
The game hints that you can try and help him find a way to walk in the sun again, so that just solidifies this overall idea. Astarion does not settle. He's still not completely free, and if there is a slim chance that he might achieve that freedom, he will seek it.
As Neil said, "Survivors find a way to survive."
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